Season of Mists Interlude
by Dark Empyrean
Summary: M rated version of 'Season of Mists,' sequel to 'My Life in Your Service.' Mature and originally intended for the KAEX challenge. This is a SUPPLEMENT to "SoM." Extra spicy scenes meant to appeal to a more mature audience. Mostly a K&A pairing. MATURE.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: **This chapter is rated M, and will be posted as such.** It is intended to be read as a separate work from my T rated story called "Season of Mists." If you have a problem with that, **then don't read it. **For those of you who have been following my T rated version of "Season of Mists," please wait for the T rated version of this chapter to appear, which will happen soon, I promise. This one's just a little spicier. Ok, straight Tabasco served over deep-fried habanera pepper rings. At least, it's the spiciest writing I've ever attempted and actually posted. This is my entry into the KAEX challenge, and I hope I've followed the rules, and Sultan is certainly happy (I've let him out to have a beer), but once again, **This is a Mature chapter intended for Mature readers, and if you are not a Mature reader, then DO NOT READ THIS.** Wait for the T chapter update, or don't, but don't say you weren't warned. It is K&A, per the KAEX challenge, but Lance gets a nod as well, just to throw in a pairing alert. (Hey, it's me!) If you want to skip straight to the sex, then you want to skip on down to about section three. Just so you know.

Playlist: Michael Jackson. (Hangs head in shame) and Edwin Starr, "Never Met a Girl…"

And all standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Voltron, etc. etc.

Season of Mists Interlude:

Chapter Four and a Half:

No More Waiting

Most of the time the Isle of Mists was a monotonous gray, covered with a thick white mist. Allura sighed. She should be grateful; the mist had spared Nyle, the last known Water Mage on Arus, and presently her tutor, from Zarkon's attacks. The Isle of Mists was, in fact, one of the few places that had escaped Zarkon's notice entirely. Most of the time its isolation depressed her, but it was perfect for her studies in the water magic of the mind that had passed to her with her royal blood, something that would not have been possible if Zarkon had succeeded in destroying the entire Lochlan clan, of which Nyle was the last, and only survivor. Except for his baby daughter, Kate. She smiled. Nyle needed help with Kate, being barely three weeks a widower, and she already loved the baby girl, loved holding her, loved dangling her long blond hair in her face as if it were the most exciting toy in the world, and did not mind it when Kate, entranced, tugged on it and stuffed it in her mouth. She hoped her own daughter, hers and Keith's, would be half so good, half so adorable.

_Our daughter_, she thought fiercely. _Mine and his._ She wanted that more than she wanted anything except the man himself. Her arms ached for them, sometimes, for her Keith and the children she would bear him, one day, and one day started _now_, had started long ago, before the stars were born, but they were wasting it…

No more waiting.

"There's no reason why he should remain blocked, Allura," Nyle told her that day as she worked through the basic exercises he was teaching her. She was shaping mist into balls, her eyes closed, but talking to Nyle all the while. He insisted that she must be able to perform these basics even while distracted; they would not move on to anything more advanced until she could. Eventually, they would fight each other while she formed shapes in the mist. Until she could do that, she would not be ready to learn anything more advanced, he insisted; as Royal Princess and a pilot of the Voltron Force, she _was_ the Team's only magical defense, and had to be able to use her powers in the heat of battle, as second nature, no matter what was going on around her.

"But Kiari's mental block…" she began, but he cut her off. She split one ball of mist into two.

"Good. Now make them smaller, tighter." He watched a moment. "Kiari's block on his mind dissolved long ago, unlike yours. There is something he doesn't want to face, to let out, and I don't know what that is." Nyle sighed. "Until he can do that, then true healing will not be possible."

She split the two into four. "What can I do, Nyle?" she almost wailed. She was so tired of Keith's walls, so tired of his defenses, and the way he hid it all behind his rigid sense of honor and protection.

"Make them glow," Nyle commanded. Eyes closed, she tried, and was rewarded with her tutor's murmured approval even as sweat broke out across her brow. Nyle sounded amused. "He carries the Sword of Altaire, you know," he said, "and only the Kings or Queens of Arus have ever done that before him. And you _are_ the Royal Princess. You carry the blood, he carries the Sword… he watches you as if… as if you are the last light in a very dark night, and you might go out, at any moment. Some would call it fate." Eyes still closed, she did not see him drop to his knees in front of her. Her mist balls broke apart as he gently held her shoulders. His blue eyes, almost the exact shade as hers, were piercing when she opened her own. "And you feel the same. Tell me you don't."

She said nothing.

He pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead and chucked her under the chin. "You are being silly, Allura Blue," he said, using the name that used to drive her crazy when they were children, when she had been betrothed to him practically out of the cradle, before Zarkon had destroyed their world and all the rules had changed. And now, a man from Earth with dark hair and eyes was holding Nyle's newborn orphaned daughter so that she could learn water magic, and she loved him, with all her heart and soul, and Nyle was a very good teacher and friend, and nothing more; he was still mourning his wife, a commoner, a refugee from the attacks, and he would never, he told her, marry again.

"I'm taking the block off your mind for longer today. Through the night. You have to get used to having total control of your mind again, Allura Blue, but you must come to me immediately if the burning starts again." He smiled at her crookedly as he heard Kate wail somewhere off in the distance. "If Keith lets his walls down, for any reason, remember that you will hear him, sense him, exactly as you did before you absorbed that Robeast's attack, and before the witch… ensorcelled him, unless you use the shielding exercises we have practiced." He looked towards the sound of the wailing, muffled and distorted by the mist. "Stop being silly, Allura Blue." His eyes looked ancient and lost as they studiously avoided the cairn, his wife's beachside grave, in the distance behind them. "Life is much too short for that."

"But tradition decrees…" she sputtered, hating it that she suddenly sounded like Nanny.

"Cat was as common as common could be," he said sadly. "Our marriage was certainly against tradition. Maybe even the law. Especially considering… well, you know. Us. But I loved her, and I would give anything, anything at all, to have one night, even one hour, even just one smile, from her again. The old Arus died ten years ago, Allura. We get to make a new one. Don't waste your chance." He stood up, brushing sand from his knees. "All I'm saying is that there is no one on this island but you, Keith, myself, and a squalling newborn, whom I am going to be up all night with either feeding, or diapering, or trying to catch naps in between the two, and I probably would not notice if a Robeast landed on my head. We're on the Isle of Mists, Allura Blue. This place is literally off the map. I'm still not sure how you and your commander found it, in fact. Do what you want, what you need. No one will know. Not even me." He walked down the beach a few paces before calling back to her, "I'm going to get Kate. Stop being stupid, Allura Blue. It doesn't suit you."

She stared at the water for a time after that, and then at Nyle's dead wife's grave. Nyle was almost exactly her age, and his wife had died, painfully, hemorrhaging after childbirth, and the only reason he was still drawing breath was because of their daughter. She thought of the fresh mound that covered the massacred bodies at Lake Aeylene. Cat had been one of the very few survivors. She shuddered, trying to imagine a life without Keith, without his steady watchfulness, the way he had of making her want to be the best person she could possibly be, his strength that was spiritual as well as physical, his rare smiles but dancing eyes, his wild hair that practically begged her to run her fingers through it…

And she was up off the beach and running towards the castle, towards her rooms that adjoined his. His idea. Security issues, he insisted. She raced for a bath, perhaps something to eat and then, when night fell, she would find him. _If he even looks at me wrong, I might lose my nerve_, she thought. She would keep to herself until nightfall. No excuses this time. Life was much too short. No more waiting.

VVVVV

Keith divided his attention between the sleeping baby and the couple on the beach. Kate was a good baby. She only fussed when she wanted something, and that seemed to consist of exactly three things: baby milk, a clean diaper, or human comfort. It had been Nyle who had shown him how to care for his daughter, showing him how to mix the formula with the carefully sterilized water and pointing out where he kept the scrubbed and boiled bottles. "I'm a Water Mage, and I can purify anything wet, but I still have to boil everything. It makes me paranoid, otherwise," the much too young widower said ruefully, shaking his head.

Keith merely nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Diapers are here, you can toss the dirty ones here, and if she's still crying, just hold her. She likes to hear heartbeats." They were in the Castle of Mist's cavernous kitchen, which was lit by a series of candles scattered across a long table down the middle of the room, and a huge fireplace that was always kept going, even if it was only banked embers. There was no electricity of any kind; the Isle of Mists had truly been blasted back to the Bronze Age when Zarkon attacked the mainland. "Plenty of hot water, though, being a Water Mage and all," their host had said cheerfully. Nyle had also shown him the pantries, which held a huge variety of shelf-stable food. "Since no one survived but me, we have a bit of a surplus," he tried to joke. "Oh, but I do make fresh bread. Twice a week. Cat showed me how. Insisted life without bread was less than human."

Keith had to admit, the bread was good. And if Nyle thought him strange, the leader of the Voltron Force with battle callused hands cradling his tiny daughter while he taught Allura how to use her powers even as he drained the Robeast's poison from her, the man said nothing about it. And Kate seemed to like him fine. She liked his hair, especially, and he had sometimes been caught with his face right up against hers, her tiny fists pulling on his not-regulation dark hair, trying to drag it into her mouth. Allura had seen him more than once, and laughed out loud, and then gotten this look on her face like she was going to cry, and it made him feel like his stomach had dropped out of his body. He could stand anything but her tears.

But as Kate slept, from the gray stone tower of the Castle of Mists he watched Nyle kneel and grip Allura by the shoulders on the beach below him, and was shocked by the fierce wave of possessiveness that rocked him.

Touching her. Allura. Gripping her shoulders, maybe hurting her. What if she was hurting, and he was stuck here, in this tower, with a sleeping baby, and could do nothing about it? Even worse, maybe _not_ hurting her. Maybe she wanted him to…

_Get a grip, Kogane._ Nyle was her teacher. That was all. It probably had something to do with the balls of mist that were swirling around them.

And then the mist balls shattered, and Nyle was almost touching her face with his, brushing back her hair tenderly, reaching out to touch her face, and Keith felt his heart explode with an emotion he did not recognize. _How dare he?_

Kate started crying, which was the only thing that kept him from charging the beach. He scooped her up, shushing her, wondering if she could feel his racing heart. The words _stupid_ and _Allura Blue_ floated up to him through the mist-white air, and his heart exploded again. He _hated_ it that this man had once been betrothed to Allura, and hated it that he didn't know what obligations that placed Allura under _now_, under Arusian law, and hated it even more that he was too afraid to just call up the castle and ask. And most of all, he hated it that this man had a history with her, had shared jokes with her, had played with her, had known her as a little girl, and even had a _nickname_ for her. Allura Blue. It was so damn cute, and it was all Nyle's.

And he knew, now, about the pepper cheese. Lance had told him during one of his late night check-ins with the castle. He imagined a young Allura, rolling on the floor with a young Kiari, pulling hair, red tangled with gold, kicking and scratching, and all over this man. Boy. Whatever.

And had he just called her _stupid_? Why hadn't Allura punched him? He had certainly taught her how… unless… she didn't want to…

"I'll take her now," the man himself said from the arched entrance to the tower, his approach as silent as the mist itself. If Nyle had been a soldier of Doom, Keith would be dead now, and so would tiny, and suddenly quiet, Kate. Allura sat alone on the beach below them, staring at the waves.

"Good lesson?" Keith choked out as he handed Kate off to her father.

"Best yet," Nyle assured him, a little smugly, Keith thought. "She's going to be quite formidable. But by the gods, it's tiring." Nyle yawned hugely as he snuggled his daughter to his chest, purple shadows vivid under his blue eyes. It was hard, Keith thought, to be mad at a man who had just lost his wife and was struggling to raise his daughter alone. Especially when that man was as easy going as Nyle. Keith was familiar with losing loved ones, as was everyone else on the planet. Besides, Keith genuinely liked the Water Mage, and was grateful beyond words that he was helping Allura, that he could stop the burning in her mind. He took a deep breath as he felt his calm being restored.

And felt it shatter again as Nyle said, "Allura will be wanting an early bath. I'm going to meet her in her bathing room, to heat her water, of course. After that, well," Keith could have sworn the man looked smug. "I doubt you'll see me until morning. Kate doesn't sleep through the night yet, you know, so… help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen. Oh, and have a good night," he added, almost as an afterthought. Keith was too enraged to do anything but think the words _bathing room_ and _meet her_. He didn't notice as Nyle melted quietly from the room. Instead, he looked for Allura down on the beach, but he didn't see her. He stormed off to his rooms, which adjoined hers, for security measures, of course, in the grip of the familiar rage he kept thinking he had conquered forever, but kept rearing its ugly head. _Good thing he's not warming my bath water_, Keith thought. _I might drown him in it. And I think I'm going to need a cold one, anyway…_

VVVVV

Nyle Lochlan, last Water Mage on planet Arus, smiled to himself as he set the princess's bath water to almost boiling. A light sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, and Kate looked at him quizzically. She got that look, sometimes, when she was in the direct presence of the mind magic that ran through her blood. He had wondered if, because Cat had not been of noble blood, their daughter would not have the power. Kate was showing signs to the contrary already, however. But then again, maybe it was just gas. It was hard to tell, with babies.

It took more energy to heat water from this distance, but there was no way he wanted to run into Commander Keith Kogane after the way he had just baited him. He knew the depth of Keith's feelings for Allura, and hers for him, and he knew the feelings he had just provoked in both of them. He knew the commander was a trained killer, and he knew Allura was bare inches from losing her nerve. _No_, he thought. _It's a good night to settle in with my daughter, a good book, some Rhesian wine, and stay the hell out of the way_.

VVVVV

Princess Allura looked longingly at the decorative bottle that held Rhesian wine. Like everything else here, it was beautiful, but decaying; the glass was a peculiar iridescent blue that she had never seen anywhere but the Castle of Mists. It was the exact shade of the ocean surrounding them, on one of those rare bright days when the mists cleared and the waters teased her by showing, briefly, their turquoise and blue-green colors. But the bottle was also decorated with a fine silver netting that had seen better days, fraying around the edges and a bit tarnished. The wine itself, Allura knew from guilty experience, was light in color and very bright, like liquid diamonds, but it was heavy in flavor and viscosity, more like a red wine that tasted like crushed flowers and had been bleached by the sun. She frowned at it. It was the easy way out, and she knew it. And what would be his reaction if she went to him, despite his misgivings and gods-blasted sense of honor, smelling of wine? He'd tell her no, but gently, reasonably, and send her away. She stood up straighter, princess-like, in spite of herself. Tonight she was having none of that. Tonight, there would be no more waiting.

She checked to see that the basket she had grabbed from the kitchen was where she had left it. She knew he had gone straight to his rooms before she returned from the beach, and had likely not eaten. _How many times has he brought me a plate from the kitchen, when I worked through dinner, or was so exhausted from P.T. I couldn't drag myself to the table_? she wondered. So she had stuffed some of Nyle's phenomenally delicious bread into a basket along with a tin of some kind of spreadable cheese and some dark imported chocolate. The Lochlan clan did not eat flesh, and fresh foods simply wouldn't grow on the rocky, mist-shrouded island, but there were plenty of other kinds of food, much of it quite good, even if it was canned or vacuum- sealed, and the bread alone was enough to live on. If Nanny ever tasted it, she would swoop down and chain Nyle to the ovens in the kitchen of the Castle of Lions, even if he was technically a Duke.

She stepped into her bath with a sigh of gratitude. Nyle had made it boiling hot for her, just as she liked it, and she scrubbed herself with rose-scented soap quickly. She was afraid if she soaked too long, she would lose her nerve. And she _was_ nervous. Her hands shook as she held the soap and her breathing was shallow. The enormity of what she was about to do was beginning to sink in, and she thought longingly of the wine. _Maybe I'll just add it to the basket, just in case_, she thought, dunking her hair quickly in the rose-scented water. She shook as she stepped from the bath and toweled herself dry, so roughly her skin turned slightly red.

_Dear goddess, what am I doing?_ she half-thought, half-prayed as she slipped a rough woven cotton nightgown over her head. Its long bell sleeves covered her wrists, and its hem brushed her knees. It was not what she would have chosen for… for her first… she blushed. But she liked the texture, and it was all she had that was clean, and it was white. White. The color of purity. Her breathing quickened, but not in a good way. _Dear goddess, what am I doing?_

_You are going to walk in there and offer food to the man you love. You are going to offer him half a loaf of bread, and take the other half for yourself, in a ritual as old as time. That is all, Princess. And what comes, will come. You both have more important things to do than waste time fighting fate._

Allura shivered. It was a bit too detailed an answer to have come from her own head. Keith might not believe in prayer, but she did, and she knew better than to fight fate _or_ direct answers to prayers. And she could certainly feed him. That, at least, she could do without losing her nerve. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her basket and pushed through the door connecting her room to his, forgetting the wine as she went.

VVVVV

Keith had shoved all the heavy furniture in the room against the walls, leaving a large clear space in the middle. He was halfway through his Tai Chi routine when he felt her standing just beyond the threshold of his door. It was unlike him to end his evening with Tai Chi practice. He was usually so exhausted from fighting the forces of Planet Doom or from patrols or conference meetings or taking the Lions for one last run or checking on _her_ that he collapsed into sleep whenever he could get it. But not tonight. Tonight, he felt unsettled, like the space around him crackled with lightening-infused air. Her presence did not help. He wanted to continue in his movements, despite the fact that she was standing there, because he desperately needed to _calm down_ after his encounter with Nyle, after what he saw on the beach between them, but he couldn't.

He stood, with his back to her, clad only in loose sweatpants. She wished he would continue in his movements; his sinuous muscles seemed to take on a life of their own. She loved them, not just because he was the first man who had ever let her look closely at his body, standing still as she stared, even though she could tell it made her uncomfortable. That had been so long ago, it seemed… She felt incredibly safe with him, watching him with his head down, his shoulders moving slightly as he panted. "Keith," she said, her voice wavering slightly as she noticed all the heavy furniture he had moved. _Bread_, she thought. _I'm only here to offer him bread_… "Is this a bad time?"

He didn't move, his breathing heavy, but not with exertion. Tai Chi was a very gentle exercise, centered more in the mind than the body. His nerves were rather frayed, and he was trying to get himself under control, both from the interruption, and from some other unsettling emotion he could not yet name. She smelled like cotton and bread, _his_ bread, but she had come to share it with him, and he _was_ hungry, so he turned to thank her, to take it from her, and he saw what she was wearing.

She had obviously just stepped from the bath. She was wearing a nightgown of rough, loosely woven cotton, and as a consequence, it was quite…sheer. He would have thought it too big for her, but it clung to her entire body in ways that made his pupils dilate. That was when he caught her scent, and something primal was unleashed within him. She smelled like roses. That was wrong. Allura, _his_ Allura, smelled like lilies. Roses were _his_ smell, the smell of _his_ soap, and while some part of him knew that just meant she probably had rose scented soap stocked in her bathroom, the other part of him, the primal part that refused, tonight, to be tamed even by cold baths and moving heavy furniture and Tai Chi, roared within him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked innocently, holding half the loaf of bread out to him. She was so maddeningly, intoxicatingly innocent. It was part of the problem. Did she even _know_ what she was doing to him in her nearly see-through, form-fitting cotton nightgown? Had she walked down to the kitchen in it, to get this bread? Had _he_ seen her in it? Had _he _seen the way it clung to her thighs, to her hips, the sides of her breasts? He grasped the bread, half of him powerless to do anything else, the other half screaming a primal _Mine! She is mine, now and forever…_

For once in his life, for perhaps the first time, the primal part won out.

"Yes," he exhaled, a long, drawn out sibilant sound, _like a snake_, he thought, _the snake in the garden_… "I'm very hungry…" and he pulled her to him, her damp, cotton-clad form fitting against his tightly, and he took her bread from her, tossing it, with his, back into the basket where she had set it by the door. "But I'd rather eat it later…" he whispered, his lips suddenly touching hers, his eyes so dark his pupils appeared almost black, and she shook in his arms, and he understood, then, that she wanted this too, that she was scared, but she trusted him, and he felt awed by this beautiful woman in his arms who had been given to him to love, to protect, and tonight, to calm and to claim.

"Sshh," he whispered, drawing her closer, resting his head on her damp hair and planting a kiss there. "Is it time, Allura? Are you ready for this?"

She could only nod into his chest, her arms wrapped around him, her hands digging tightly into his sides.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, cradling her to him.

"Yes," she whispered, looking at him finally, and he did not see the kind of fear he was worried about there. "But only that you would say no, and send me away again."

"This may change things… _will_ change things…"

"Stupid things… outdated things," she hissed. "Here on this island, there is no one to know but us, and one sad man who would give anything to have even one second of what we have a chance of having, because he had it, and lost it, and he knows its value, and _I will not let our fate be his_," she said, vehement, and shut him up the best way she knew how.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him fiercely. Her fingers twined in his black hair, pulling him down to her, and she was not gentle, she was not shy. She pressed her mouth firmly against his, startled and thrilled by the rough texture of his lips against her soft ones, and she wondered how his lips would feel across her body, and she thought about his calloused hands, moving across her, and shivered…

"Yes," he whispered again, gathering her up in his arms, her damp cotton nightgown the thinnest of barriers between their skin, ready to carry her to the bed when he realized he had shoved it into a corner behind a dresser and a chair. "Damn," he said softly, still holding her while she giggled at him. "_Lovers are never at their best when it matters_," he quoted, holding his near-naked princess close to him.

"Who said that?" she asked, holding on to his neck for dear life.

"I'll be damned if I can remember right now," he said, and sank down to the floor with her in front of the fireplace. He placed her carefully in front of it and knelt beside her. She lay still, her eyes luminous, as he traced her body first with his eyes and then lightly with his hands. He carefully arranged her arms over her head and rolled her on one side towards him, her back to the fire. "This should do nicely," he whispered as he stretched himself out in front of her. "Between me and the fire, you should be plenty warm," and he leaned in to kiss her, capturing her hands with one of his own, pinning them above her head gently. "But we should get you out of those damp clothes…" he whispered.

Her eyes were suddenly heavy as she looked at him, the flickering firelight highlighting all his chiseled features: his jaw, his square shoulders, his broad chest… she arched herself impatiently, trapped in one single, powerful hand, as rough and callused as she knew it would be. She felt a liquid fire at the core of her that she hadn't ever felt before, and she whimpered, straining towards him.

"Ssshh," he whispered against her lips. "Patience. We have all night… and we've waited so long…" He drew back, gazing at her body through the cotton. "I want to look at you," he said, "and this damp, rough thing is in the way. Tell me, Princess. Are you awfully attached to it?"

Mutely she shook her head no, fascinating by the way the muscles of his abdomen flowed smoothly downward into the waistband of his loose pants. His chest was dusted with fine dark hair that trailed downward, and she wanted to pull on the waistband, to see where it led, what he looked like… she could see his obvious desire for her, outlined against the fabric of his sweatpants, and she moaned, straining towards him, wanting and melting all at once.

"I'm going to tear it off you, then," he said carefully, not wanting to frighten her. He reached out with his free hand and worked the loosely woven fibers apart at her neck until he could get a finger through, and, still holding her arms with one hand, he tore through her nightgown until it hung open to her waist. In the firelight, she gleamed pure, rosy gold. Her breasts strained towards him, as if begging to be touched, and her erect nipples made him gasp. He was going to lose control, and soon.

He flipped her on her back and straddled her hips in one fluid motion, leaving her breasts completely exposed in the firelight. She found herself with her hands released, but she still couldn't move very much, because he was sitting on her, and she could feel his rock-hard erection through his loose pants, pressing against her belly. He looked like a dark angel, his wild black hair like a halo around him, his face cast half in shadow by the flames. Her hands, finally free, roamed up and down the tightly strained muscles of his chest and abdomen, stopping shyly at his waist, before slipping one single hand under the waistband of his pants, feeling the skin between his hips, the soft nest of hair there, and then she felt him, the hard length of him, pressed against her, and she slipped her trembling hand around him, petting, stroking, her fear and shyness gone completely as she wonderingly felt the soft skin of him sheathed across a throbbing hardness, the length of him straining against her, and still, she could not see that part of him, trapped beneath him as he straddled her…

At her touch, he hissed and arched his back, his entire body shuddering, and when he looked back down at her, her breasts completely open to him, golden in the firelight, his eyes were heavy, molten fire. "Allura," he said, his voice strangled and hoarse as he reached for her breasts, his calloused hands moving in circles around them. Her hand under his waistband continued to tease him lightly, uncertainly, and he bit his lip, holding her petal-soft breasts under his calloused soldier's hands, his thumbs moving up to rub her erect nipples, and she gasped this time, her eyes locking with his, hazy with desire. _She's so soft_, he thought as she arched her breasts against his palms, his thumbs moving faster, in circles, across her swollen nipples.

_His hands…so rough…a warrior's hands… my warrior…_

He looked at her in shock, then groaned as she moved her other hand under his waistband, her stroking not quite so shy now. His eyes rolled back into his head as he arched his back once again and thrust himself into her hands…

_Fire, fire inside me… didn't know… _ she was thinking.

He was hearing her, some part of him realized dimly. The barriers were down. …_that it could be like this_… he finished for her raggedly, thinking the same thing.

She did not seem surprised to hear him again, after so long. She was pretty much beyond coherent thought, and he was there, with her. _Keith_, she begged. _Need…_ And her eyes bore into hers, because he was her first, and she did not know what she needed, not exactly.

But he did, and it would be enough.

_Fire_, he tried to explain, engrossed in the way her hair spread out around her, catching the reds and pinks and golds of the firelight. _We must kindle, before we burn,_ he thought, and leaned down to claim her breasts with his mouth, shifting himself so that he no longer straddled her, supporting his weight with his arms, leaving only his mouth free as he tasted her petal-soft skin, inhaled its scent…

Allura wrapped her ankles around his and gripped his shoulders, pulling herself up against him. She rubbed her hips against his rock hard erection. _Now_, she begged. _Please. Keith._

He released her breasts and pushed her gently to the floor with a groan. "I want to see you. I _have_ to see you. I've dreamed of this…"

"Since forever," she whispered back. "I want to see you, too."

He had some misgivings about that part. He didn't want to scare her, the size of him coupled with fear of the act itself…

_Don't be silly. You would never hurt me. Not in a bad way._

_It will hurt, at first,_ he thought, excited, protective, and fearful all at once.

_Running and weight lifting hurt me too, at first, but I couldn't do without them now…_

"Minx," he whispered, and lifted himself up, one eyebrow raised in something like a challenge. He held himself patiently above her while she rolled down his sweatpants, hearing her gasp when the fabric hit his knees. She knew a moment's fear. _How will we ever fit together? _But they would, they were made for each other, and she touched him again, the entire swollen length of him, and felt him shudder. She gulped, but then pulled him back down on top of her, pressing herself against him, her hands finding him again, stroking him, his clothes gone completely, and as she pressed her lips against his, he grasped her nightgown and tore it completely off her body.

He rolled to one side as she lay beneath him, stoking her breasts and belly with his roughened palm.

_Burning, Keith…_

_Ssshh_… _all of you, I want to see all of you, have all of you…_

He traced her taut belly with his fingers, stopping at the nest of golden curls between her tightly pressed-together legs. "Ssshh," he whispered again, moving his lips over the skin of her lower belly, kissing his way across her hips. He stroked her thighs with his calloused hands. _All of you_, he coaxed, and she complied by relaxing against his hands as he parted her legs, followed by a series of kisses along her inner thigh. She could feel his wonder, his anticipation, as he looked at this part of her, and she lay still for him, her fingers running themselves through his wild, dark angel's hair, and she gasped when he gently bent one knee and pushed it back so that she lay spread slightly open…

She lay underneath his hands and his gaze, perfectly still and trusting, her pale thighs rosy in the firelight, her pink folds and crevices open completely to him now, him and him alone, and he felt rocked by a tidal wave of possessiveness and desire that threatened to sweep away all sense of self, all sense of restraint. _Mine_, he thought. _Mine and none other… _and he felt her wordless agreement, her desire to belong to him completely, and she arched herself up, whimpering, searching…

And met his gentle fingers, stroking each and every fold of her, tracing her soft opening with the lightest touches of his work-roughened hands. She shuddered at his touch and cried out his name. _Please_, she was screaming He slipped one finger gently, slowly, inside her, and felt her clench tightly around it. He moved his finger more and more quickly until she shuddered and cried under him, and he looked at her then, her eyes glazed and half open, and he touched her as lightly as a butterfly's wing on that small, round bundle of nerves, his fingers pressing and tapping rather than rubbing, until she arched her hips and called out his name, her thoughts wordless longings as she cried out, rigid against his hand. Only when she relaxed against him, when she could think again, when she thought, _Keith, my Keith, please…let me feel you…_ did he release her and roll on top of her, blue eyes locking with dark ones.

_Allura_, he thought, and covered her mouth with his own fierce, needy kisses. "Are you ready?" he gasped between kisses. She nodded her wordless assent as he used his teasing fingers to spread her slightly wider and positioned himself right inside her opening, moving the swollen length of him slowly into her. He leaned into her, cradling her head against his chest as he once again twined her fingers in his, whispering, "I don't want to hurt you, love, but if I do, it will pass," and he slid slowly into her, groaning deep in his throat at the tightness of her, freezing himself when he felt her squeeze his hand fiercely. "Ok?" he asked, not moving, until she whispered his name and used her free hand to push against his thigh, urging him deeper into her. He continued his slow movement, sweetly torturous for him, while he fought against his body's urgings to pound himself into her, until he felt her begin to move against him, wrapping her thighs around him, urging him deeper. He complied, burying himself fully within her tight, throbbing opening, a strangled half-moan, half-sob escaping his throat as he began to quicken his thrusts, drawing himself out and then plunging, again, into the fullness of her. She made soft little moaning sounds in the back of her throat, her fingers still entwined with his with one hand, the other hand digging into his thigh, urging him into her faster, harder. She pulled back from his shoulder to look at him, and he felt her shudder beneath him, every muscle in her body taut, her hips making one last desperate push against him, as she cried out her pleasure and buried her face in his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he buried his face in her hair and increased his thrusts, her thighs tight around his, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and, as she clutched him close to her, he pushed into her, impossibly deep, one last time, before he held her tight and lost himself in the waves of incredible pleasure that came from his release.

They stayed that way for a while, slowly coming back to their senses while he remained buried within her, and she pressed against the length of his body with her own. She reached her hands to his face, capturing him for another long, deep kiss, before he withdrew himself from her and rolled to one side, watching her with one arm propping him up, the other resting on her stomach. He was smiling, deeply content, and humbled at the enormity of what they had just done, but he watched her anxiously for any sign of remorse or sadness. She merely covered his hand on her stomach with one of her own and stretched languidly, her toes curling up as she arched her body, and then relaxed. She was smiling, looking at him with suspiciously wet eyes.

"Feel ok?' he asked her, a bit anxiously.

She shook her head, incredulous. "I don't know whether to laugh at you or tickle you to death," she said, rolling on her side to face him. "No, I do not feel 'ok.' I feel wonderful; I feel tingly, and…and a little sore…and glowing…" she rolled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she did so. "Do I look tingly? Do I glow? Do I look different?" she demanded.

He smiled into her hair, content. "You always glow. Now, the tingly part… I'm not sure what 'tingly' looks like…" she elbowed him in the ribs. _Seriously, though, Allura. Regrets?_

_Only that it took so long_, she shot back. _And that you chose the worst possible time to redecorate…_

He laughed and squeezed her tightly against him. She was _his_. He was never going to let her go.

"That will be hard to do, since your bed is lost in here somewhere, and I don't want to sleep on the floor," she whispered gently into his chest. "Unless you want to sleep with me…" she added shyly, almost inaudibly. She was tracing her fingers across his chest, playing with the light dusting of curling dark hair she found there, when, as if sensing her shyness, he pulled her chin up so that she had no choice but to look him full in the face.

"Don't you _dare_ feel embarrassed, or shy, or ashamed," he pleaded. "I love you. If anyone else ever so much as looks at you in a way I don't like, I'm going to kill them," he promised her solemnly.

"Death threats are so romantic," she teased. He scooped her up, carrying her across the threshold into her room and into her bed. He pulled her tightly to him and then pulled the blankets around them, no other barrier between them but their skin.

"You've been hanging around Lance too much," he said, snuggling into her hair.

"Yes," she said, thinking of their absent friend while she snuggled naked in Keith's arms. "I keep hearing he's a bad influence…"

"Undoubtedly," Keith whispered back, thinking of him too, before turning to the woman in his arms and crushing her to him tightly.

_I love you, Allura._

_I love you too._

_No regrets?_

_No! And stop asking me that! _

A few minutes later, he was smiling. The beautiful, bewitching Princess of Arus, the woman he would kill for, still snored. And she was his, all his.

VVVVV

In the Castle of Lions, Lance McClain sat bolt upright in bed. He was soaked with sweat and his skin was burning hot, exactly as if he had been in the grips of some kind of fever dream, but he remembered no dream, none at all, and he was utterly confused as to what was wrong. He had never felt this way in his life. He was stumbling towards the bathroom, intending to douse his face with cold water and maybe go seek out Dr. Gorma, when an intense wave of sexual desire and need came literally from nowhere, rocking him to his knees. He would have fallen over on his face had he not been standing in the doorway of his bathroom where he could grab the doorframe. _What the hell is wrong with me_? he wondered, as yet another, stronger wave of desire and this time, pleasure, washed over him.

_Oh shit_, he thought, comprehension dawning. _Oh, hell no. _He pitched sideways on the floor as wave after wave of sensations that were not his own washed over him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. _Goddamn this bond_. He had fought the good fight. He had done the right thing. He had given her up, and would live with the pain of it forever. But most of all, he wanted this to not be happening to him. And he was grotesquely enjoying himself. _How can I not?_ he thought against gritted teeth, writhing on the bathroom floor. _At least there are no images. Thank God for small favors…_

"Easy, Fireheart," said a concerned voice from his doorway. "It's a good thing I know the shape of your thoughts enough that I could feel your pain." She was beside him in seconds, her hand on his forehead as he writhed.

"Make it stop, please God, make it stop," he begged, looking into her concerned green eyes with wild blue ones. "The blocks…they're down…"

She sighed. "It's all in the shielding," she said, putting her hand on his forehead. "Someone has been unforgivably derelict this night… possibly me…has this happened before?"

He felt his head begin to fill with something like cotton as he shook his head no, and as she touched him, felt his thoughts, she gasped at the force of them. Before she could finish shielding him completely, another wave of pleasure and desire hit them both, at the same time, and Kiari gasped as if she had been punched in the stomach. She looked at him, shocked, comprehension dawning as yet another wave hit them.

_They're getting stronger_, Lance thought desperately.

"Let me finish the shielding," Kiari said, her breathing heavy, her eyes glazed, and as she reached for his forehead, his head feeling slightly more cottony, her other hand grasped the old Academy T-shirt he invariably wore for pajamas and pulled him right up against her. He noticed that she was wearing a thin silk gown of some kind. Panting heavily, he grabbed her right there in his bathroom floor, scooping her up against him as need coursed through them both. He could feel her trembling with it.

"As you say on Earth, fuck the shielding," she said, shocking him thoroughly, and reached for him as he threw her down on his bed.

"Is Saran going to kill me for this?" he asked as he tried to kiss her and rip off his T-shirt at the same time.

"Only if he finds out about it," she whispered, their hands switching so that his T-shirt came off in her hands, and her silk gown split open in his.

He was on top of her, kissing her, lost in her red hair. "He'll find some other reason…only a matter of time…never use dirty socks as a gag…"

She flipped somehow, so that her piercing green eyes bored into his blue ones from above him. "You talk too much, _Lancelot_ McClain," she said, stopping his mouth with hers, pleasure and need and desire and desperation that was not entirely theirs coursing through them.

_Oh shit_, he thought. _She found it out_… And it was the last complete, coherent thought either one of them had for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Here's a little something extra for my M crowd. Thanks to all of you for your support and favorable responses. I've talked about this YA novel I'm working on, and how I want to keep the story mostly T, to learn the lines, so to speak, but then Sultan started whispering in my ear that one way to learn the lines was to cross them every now and then, and what better way to learn what _was_ T then to know for sure what was _not_... it all started making sense suddenly, the tricksy devil, and so here we have a bonus chapter, like a bonus track on a CD or a B-side for those of us who remember vinyl... it's chapter 5.5, and some of it (very little, actually) will make it into Chapter 6 of Season of Mists, mostly for plot continuity, because**THIS IS A VERY MATURE CHAPTER INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE**. There. Consider yourselves warned. Wait for the T version of Ch. 6 if you are easily offended by** lots of torrid sex and hot romance.** This little interlude takes place the morning after the events of chapter four, before we catch up with some of the other characters in chapter five, and I thought K&A deserved a little more (ahem) time. If you are looking for fighting, other characters, or the robot defender himself, then you will be disappointed, **because this is pretty much straight smut**. Are you happy now, you guys? See what you've done to me? (deep blush) You know who you are...

Playlist: "Houses," Great Northern, and "About Her," Malcolm McLaren.

And, as usual, all standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Voltron, etc. etc.

Season of Mists Interlude:

Chapter Five and a Half:

Flames on the Water

Keith moved silently back into the princess's bedroom. He had just performed his morning Tai Chi, something he almost never went without, and since his bedroom was now completely bare, it made sense to slip away there. He did not want to wake Allura with his exercises. He wanted to wake Allura himself, and so he had set his internal clock to make sure he was up well before the sunrise, a time he knew the princess almost always slept through. She was sleeping, still, when he crept up beside her, watching as she lay sprawled out on her back, the blankets twisted around her waist so that her pale breasts rose and fell with her breathing, a single strand of golden hair covering one soft rosy nipple. Her hair spread out around her like a golden halo, and he thought that he never seen a creature so lovely. He could not believe the twists and turns his life had taken to bring him here, to bring him to her. It had all been worth it, every bit of it, all of the pain, the losses, the loneliness, because it had brought him to her. He had not known such beauty and goodness could exist within one person, could exist, at all, in the entire universe.

_She is mine_, the deep, primal part of him she frequently called forth whispered. He smiled a little. It was such a contradiction. He had been raised to be an enlightened, modern man, as were most men of Earth these days, and he knew she really belonged to herself. But ever since that first day he had touched her hand, had looked into her eyes in the ruins of the old castle, some part of him he had not known existed had awoken forcefully, had roared like the Lion he piloted that _she_ was his, and he would fight for her, die for her, to keep her, to protect her, to make her smile. To make her moan, and sweat, and become one with him. As he was about to do, again.

He slid under the tangled blankets, moving slowly, quietly, until he could feel her petal-soft skin meet his own. He propped himself on one elbow, looking down at her breasts as they rose with her breathing. _She is softest there,_ he remembered, looking at the pale, pale skin underneath her breasts, remembering the way she had shivered as his roughened hands had stroked her there, the night before, in front of the fire in his room in the Castle of Mists. _But perhaps not_, he thought again, remembering the pale length of her inner thigh, trembling as he kissed her there. He smiled, his breathing already quickened, his arousal already apparent underneath the blanket. _Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty_, he thought, and pressed himself firmly against the length of her body, his desire for her evident as he pressed against her thigh. "Wake up, my princess. Wake up, my love," he whispered into her ear before claiming her slightly parted lips with his own. He touched her parted lips with his tongue. He wanted to taste her, every part of her, and her lips tasted faintly like citrus. He shifted himself and ground his hips against her thigh. He wanted her to know exactly where this was going the second she woke up. He wanted to go slowly, to let her explore. He wanted to know where _she_ might lead _him_. For as long as he could stand it.

She smiled before she opened her eyes, her body awash in a variety of competing sensations that she wanted to experience slowly, to savor. The first thing she noticed was his scent, his faint smell of oranges and sunshine, and she knew, then, that she was safe in his arms, surrounded by his presence as surely as any force field. In the circle of his arms, under the shield of his scent, she knew everything was right, and good, and she felt like a child again, playing under the blankets of her parent's bed, safe and loved. She tasted his tongue, as well, and shivered at the thought of it, of what else it might do, where it might go... and then, as she felt the unmistakable hardness of his desire for her grinding against her thigh, she gasped, and her eyes fluttered open to see her Keith, her dark angel, watching her with such a fierce intensity, an almost animal kind of wanting, that she knew she _wanted_ to belong to him in some way that went deeper than words.

"Keith," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face against him. "You're still here," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Of course," he whispered into her hair. His hand traveled across her taut stomach, moving slowly, lightly, and she shivered. She felt her nipples harden, exposed above the blankets. "Always. I'll always be here."

She felt strangely shy, suddenly. She had imagined this moment, and many more like them, more times than she could count, but now that he was here, naked and wanting in her bed, she knew nothing more than that she _wanted_. He seemed to be waiting for her, and she was unsure of what to do... But this was her Keith, and she could tell him anything, could share anything...

"I...don't know what to do," she confessed. She looked at him, confused and uncertain. "And I feel... kind of shy..." She ducked her head back under his, listening to his heartbeat. "Is that normal?" she whispered. "Will you help me?"

She felt, rather than heard, a deep rumble in his chest that sounded like gentle laughter. "There is no 'right' way in this, Allura, love," he said. His heart was beating fast, she thought. "There is nothing but the two of us, and no rules but the ones we make, and words like 'normal' do not apply. I prefer the word 'want.' What do you want, Allura?" He pulled her up above him, brushing her tangled hair back from her face. "What would you _like_? What can I do? Anything, anything at all..."

"I don't know," she whispered hoarsely, unable to look away from his dark angel's face, full of passion and fire. "Not really. I want it to be like last night, to feel that way again, but that's all I know..." she trailed off, helplessly.

His smiled at her, considering. She was sitting on top of him now; he had moved her so that she could feel him, swollen and huge, against her inner thigh, and he gripped her hips with both hands, pressing her even more tightly against him. "Keith," she moaned, her eyes flaming, her hips grinding against him as if they had a mind of their own...

_They do, love. Have a mind of their own. Your body knows what it wants, and we get to discover it, together..._

She flushed. "There is one thing..." she began.

_Anything. Whisper it into my mind, if you are too shy with me, still, to say it aloud..._

"I want to _see_ you. All of you. Like you saw me, last night," she whispered, her eyes deadly serious as she stared into his. _And touch you, too..._

He raised his eyebrows as he ran his hand along the side of her face tenderly. "Easy enough, and a good place to start," he said softly. He lifted her off him, placing her to his side, and crossed his arms behind his head. "Explore away. Or, at least for as long as I can stand it."

She hadn't expected to be nervous as she looked at him, his lean, and hard, muscled soldier's body stretched out before her, waiting for her touch. Her hands shook like leaves as she touched the swollen length of him, amazed at this part of him that had somehow fit inside her last night, joining them together. She used both hands, to feel all around him, her fingers stroking him, discovering the softness of his skin, the shape of him...He gulped, determined to let her have her wish, no matter how maddening it was to lay still beneath her questing fingers...

She touched him there from top to bottom, feeling how he was shaped differently in some places than others, and that certain places made him twitch more than others, and that his hands had become fists and he was biting his lips as she explored. She slid her fingers downward, brushing across the rapidly swelling, rounded base of him...

His inner thighs twitched and he grabbed the headboard violently, bucking underneath her. "Allura," he choked out. "If you keep that up, then I don't think we'll get very far in your...explorations..." His eyes were glazed and he was panting, and a light sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead. She stared, amazed that she could do this to him, and felt her body's answering response as she felt the liquid fire inside her that had swept through her last night.

She moved her hands to stroke his trembling thighs, thinking to calm him, but it didn't quite work out that way. He groaned and clutched at the headboard. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously, stroking the crevice between his tightly clenched inner thigh muscles up and down, gently, she thought.

"Uhhh...mmm-hmmm... fine, I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth.

"Ok," she said doubtfully, wondering if she was doing something wrong. She decided to switch her attention to his upper body. She had seen him shirtless many times, but it was different to run her fingers across his arms and chest, tracing his muscles, the hardened lines and curves of them, with her fingertips. She brushed her fingers lightly across his nipples, and he gasped again, but she ignored him this time, feeling bolder. She skimmed her hand across the fine dark hair of his chest, noticing how it became thicker the closer she came to his rock-hard erection, and she decided she didn't care, this time, how much he moved underneath her hands, so she skimmed her hands downward, rubbing and pressing against the skin of his hips, his thighs, the muscled plane of his body that disappeared just below his waistband, a part of him she had stared at, and wondered about, before last night...and saw that he was hugely, almost painfully aroused, and she felt a moment's fear again, wondering how he was ever going to fit, remembering the initial pain from the night before, and realizing that she was still a little bit sore...

_I don't want to hurt you_, he thought, but his thoughts had a frantic quality to them that she didn't recognize.

_I hurt in a good way_, she thought. _I hear it gets better with practice..._

_Most things do_, he thought back, breathing a little easier since she had stopped what she was doing. He was still clutching the headboard, afraid that if he let go, he would flip her over and pound himself into her, as hard as he could, even if it hurt her at first, and even if he didn't last long enough to see to her pleasure... _Deep breaths, Kogane. Think about flight formations..._

A bold, wicked glint came into her eyes, and his heart flipped in his chest. This was what he had been hoping for, that she would overcome her shyness, but now that it was actually happening, now that he saw pure, naked desire in her eyes, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.

"Turn over," she said, in a voice that sounded very like a command. His eyes widened at her boldness.

_Anything_, he reminded himself. _As long as I can stand it_, he amended, flipping over to feel her skim his buttocks with surer hands. He bit his arm. Her hands found the muscles along his sides, and she dug her hands into them, massaging him. Then she straddled him, and he felt her dripping wet folds pressing down against his backside. She leaned boldly forward and nipped the back of his neck with her teeth, quick and sharp, then covered the spot with a deep, slow kiss. He could feel the tight buds of her erect nipples crushed against his back, her breasts flattened against him, and that, coupled with her mouth on him, and the hot, tight opening of her grinding against him, was all he could stand. Some kind of switch flipped in his brain, and he was no longer quite in control of himself, his brain and his body consumed in a blaze of molten fire.

"Enough," he almost growled, and it was not a request. He rolled sideways, which pitched her on her back, and he held her down with both his hands over hers as he looked down at her. Consumed by the same molten fire that he was, she no longer even remembered feeling shy with him, knowing only that she wanted _more_, knowing that she could make him feel as he had made her feel, and she struggled against his hands, trying to free herself, wanting to make him writhe again...

"I said _enough_," he commanded, surprising himself with his forcefulness, but not enough to stop. His eyes were completely glazed as he looked her up and down. He crossed her arms behind her neck so that he could hold her there with one hand. He palmed her breasts, flicking her erect nipples with his strong thumb, then used his knees to open her legs, pinning them apart. She whimpered, straining against him, but it was like fighting against iron manacles, and she smiled wickedly as she realized she liked this, she _loved_ this, this feeling of being completely powerless beneath Keith, _her_ Keith, knowing he would never hurt her, but that he could, and would, take her as he wished, and that was the surest way she knew of belonging to him completely, here in her bed.

He slipped his fingers inside her, probing her, and she gasped, moving her hips up and down even as she strained, pinned as she was, to drive his fingers deeper into her. _No signs of pain,_ he thought, watching her red and straining face. _I'm not going to hurt her, then_, he thought with brief relief, before grinning, aware that some part of her could hear him. _At least, not much, my little 'explorer.'_ Her eyes widened, and he covered her open mouth with fierce, almost crushing kisses. His fingers slipped out of her dripping wet opening and found the swollen bud buried there, moving his fingers across it. She arched her back and cried out against his fierce kisses, and, with arms, legs, and mouth completely immobile, she felt him slide deeply into her, his hugely swollen erection stretching her, the very core of her, and it seemed as if she was a sheath for him, all her attention focused on this one part of themselves as he moved in and out of her. She felt his withdrawals from her as an aching absence, and she rose to meet him as best she could, but her pleasure was strangely heightened by the fact that she could only wait for him to fill her, pinned as she was beneath his knees, her legs spread wide open for him.

"Keith, _please_," she begged.

He smiled at her, and she saw the same wicked glint in his eyes that she had earlier. He said nothing, merely moved faster into her, and she dug her nails into the hand that held her own behind her neck. "Are you there yet, sweetheart?" he whispered, still smiling at her, watching her face. "Tell me when you are," he commanded.

She was almost over the edge as he moved faster, deeper, within her. She took a deep breath, holding it, and felt the fire inside her move closer to explosion. "Al...most..." she gasped, his dark angel's face hovering over hers, strangely expectant.

"Good," he gasped out, and then... stopped.

She felt him leave her and she cried out in frustration, struggling against him forcefully now.

"Ssshh," he told her, nuzzling, then nipping, her neck. "I would never leave you this way," and she felt herself released, suddenly, and he was sitting up, straddling her, his breathing just as ragged as hers.

"Then _why_?" she cried out, trying to pull him back down to her.

"Exploring," he said. The wicked gleam was back. "Now, I'm going to turn you over." Her eyes shot as wide open as they ever had. "But you must tell me if I'm hurting you, hurting you at all, or if you don't like it, and I'll stop. Immediately," he said. "I never want to hurt you, and you must not let me, or think it doesn't matter," and his hands were gentle as he grasped her by the hips, lifting her over his bent knees until her face was pressed against the pillows, and she was half-sitting in his lap, and she felt him, as rock-hard as she had ever felt him, against her.

_I trust you,_ she thought at him. He pushed her gently forward and grasped her by the hips, stroking her slick folds from behind as he spread her gently with his fingers, sliding himself into her until their hips met. She had never felt him so deep within her. He held her that way for a moment, motionless, letting her feel the depth of this coupling, watchful for any sign of discomfort. She merely moaned into the pillows and moved her hips against him. He began to thrust, slowly at first, then faster, as she pushed herself up from the pillows, propping herself up with her elbows. Her nipples brushed the bed sheets as he thrust into her, impossibly deep, and her hands turned into claws as she held onto the bed.

She was almost weeping with pent-up need as he held her by the hips, pulling her back to meet his deep thrusts. _Please_, she cried out to him, riding against him as their thrusts became one movement.

_Yes, love, are you ready?_ he asked, freeing one hand to rake his nails gently down her back, her head thrown back now, and he could see strands of her tangled golden hair brushing against the sides of her bouncing breasts. She could not even form the thoughts to tell him yes, so all-consuming was the molten fire inside her, so he slipped one hand under her breasts, feeling their gentle motions up and down, pulling her up and back against his chest, and slowed his movements so that, while still sheathed inside her, he could easily slip one hand between them, rubbing her hardened clitoris with his roughened fingers while still pumping himself into her. Within seconds, she shattered, going rigid in his arms, and he felt, through the bond between them, the same intense pleasure she felt. She made soft, strangled noises against her tightly clamped lips, impaling herself against him with a strong backward jerk of her thighs. He held her tightly against him, supporting her weight, still inside her, holding himself under tight control, until she began to relax, and then he pushed her forward once again and resumed his thrusts. _Ok?_ he managed to ask, and she could feel how close he was to the edge...

She spread her legs even farther apart for him, hooking her feet around his calves, and used the strength of her arms to push back against him as deeply as she could. He let go of her hips and reached out to grasp her by the hair, by the shoulders, beyond thought now, pumping furiously, and as he felt her contract against him once more, her pleasure once more washing over him through the bond they shared, he let himself go, shuddering and rigid against her. She froze as she felt not just her own release, but his too, his presence in her mind as strong as ever. She felt tears gathering, so fierce was their combined pleasure, as they completely lost all sense of having separate selves.

When it was over, when they came back to themselves, they collapsed together into a sweaty, tangled heap. Keith reached out and grabbed her fiercely, as fiercely as he had during their lovemaking, his breathing still ragged, his eyes bright with strong emotion. She snuggled herself into his side, content to be in the circle of his arms. They said nothing for a long, long while. Allura lay still against him as he stroked her face.

"I never want to leave this island," she said suddenly, her eyes wet.

_Oh no, is she crying_? Keith thought frantically. _Please, not that..._

She elbowed him in the ribs. "I'm _happy_, idiot," she said.

"Oh," was all he could think to say. "That's good, then," he added. "Right?"

She ignored him, picking up a topic they had both avoided so far. "But we will have to leave it, and soon, Keith," she said, snuggling even more tightly against him.

"I know," he groaned. He rolled over to face her. "Allura, what does this mean? For us? Out there?" He grabbed her hand in his, squeezing it. "You know I'll do anything for you. I'll face anything, I'll do whatever you want, whatever your customs demand. I'll keep it a secret, I'll announce it to the world, I'll..." he locked his eyes with hers, wanting her to know how seriously he meant what he was about to say. "I'll marry you." He smiled crookedly. "If you would even want me, that is. If it were even possible." His face became steel, suddenly. "The only thing I cannot do, will not do, is give you up."

She looked at him, amazed. "Not _want_ you? Not _want_ to marry you? Keith, that's so far from the truth." She rolled onto her back, still holding his hand, eyes staring at a spot on the ceiling. "Are you saying you want to marry _me_?"

He gulped, ashamed of himself. "I wasn't planning this, you know. For this to happen, so I'm not exactly prepared. It's tradition, where I come from, to have a ring to give you...and I have nothing...Allura, you have to know I'm a common soldier, with nothing but..."

She rolled on top of him as quick as lightening, and the small part of his mind that was always a soldier, was always alert to any danger to her, was very impressed with her reflexes. She kissed him, hard, almost angrily. "Shut. Up. Keith Kogane, _shut up_. If I have to hear about me being royalty and you being a commoner one more time I'm going to throw up. All over you, this time, instead of Lance's boots." She tossed her golden hair back behind her shoulders, sitting up as she straddled him, as bare and as regal as he had even seen her. "You hold the Sword of Altaire. My father's sword. You may even have a stronger claim to the throne than I do." He gaped at her. "No one told you that? Of course not. Stupid tradition," she grumbled, rolling off him. She sighed. "I've thought about this over and over. I think the best thing, unfortunately, is to _try_ to keep this a secret. Test the waters, so to speak, when we get home. There's a war going on..."

"What if there's a child?" he whispered, watching carefully for her reaction.

Her face lit up like the sunrise. "There is nothing that would make me happier," she said, her eyes glowing. He felt something release inside of him, some fear he didn't know he'd been carrying, and he grabbed her close.

"It's a bad time, to have a child. With a war going on," he said.

She was still smiling. "Sometimes, they just come when they come."

"So, you have to marry me," he half-stated, half-pleaded.

"I thought we established that."

"So...you _want_ to marry me?"

"We established that too," she said, smiling gently, her eyes dazed and dreamy.

"So this is what we would call on Earth an engagement."

"A secret one," she cautioned. "For now."

"I should give you _something_," he said, "even if it we have to keep it secret..." He thought a moment, then slipped out of bed, walking silently, with that feline grace he had, to his rooms. The view was... lovely, she thought. "Don't go anywhere..." he called back.

She rolled her eyes. _As if I'd go anywhere...Call the castle maybe, totally naked, tell them, "Hello, this is your princess, and I'm here on the Isle of Mists, and I've been fucking the Commander of the Voltron Force's brains out all night long and all morning, and I loved every minute of it and I'm not going to stop, in fact, I'm going to give up the throne to do it full time...They'd love that...Well, Lance might laugh...Kiari would, too..._

He stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other hiding something behind his back. "You have to know I heard every bit of that, young lady, and I have to say, I am _shocked_ at your language. Where did you learn that particular word?"

"What word?" she asked, trying to look innocent.

He slid into bed with her again, shaking his head. "He's a terrible influence. Terrible. I'm going to have to have words with him..."

"Present?" she said hopefully, deciding to pretend nothing had happened.

"Since I don't have a ring," he said nervously, and produced his book of poems, the one he had read from at Lake Aeylene. "I carry it everywhere, and now, you can carry it for me. If you'll have it... it's a bit battered, and ragged around the edges, like me, I guess, but it's sturdy and dependable, it's been through a lot, and it still hasn't come apart, and it has some wonderful things inside it..."

She had tears in her eyes as she took it from him, flipping through it for a moment, thinking how like this book he really was, that he had just described himself perfectly, before whispering, "Of course. It's wonderful." She clutched it to her breast. "One day we won't have to keep this secret. Maybe even one day soon." She looked down at the worn, and obviously well-loved, book, thinking. "But don't you dare think about stopping _this_." She gestured at the bed, at their naked, tangled bodies. "We'll just have to figure out some way to be...discreet."

He smiled. "That could be fun."

"I have this horrible commander who works me like a slave at the crack of dawn every morning, and it would be just like him to give me extra covert ops assignments...'

_Don't tempt me,_ he thought, claiming her mouth for another kiss, surprised as he felt his growing excitement...again. _On second thought, consider yourself so assigned. _He rolled on top of her. Again. _Especially night assignments. Perfect time for covert ops training.._.

She grinned up at him. "I like it when you give me orders, _Commander_."

"Good," he said, stripping the sheets off them entirely. _Dear god, we're going to starve to death up here... never make it out..._"Here's one. No more talking." And there wasn't, for a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes: This little interlude goes all the way back to the end of Chapter Four, when Lance's friend tries to help him with a little situation and gets drawn in herself, and they wind up becoming something more than friends.... **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. EXPLICIT ADULT SITUATION. MATURE CONTENT.** If you've kept up with the "Interludes" so far, then you know they are pretty much nothing but smut. This one does have some original content related to the T version of SoM, but not much. Did I mention it was pretty much nothing but smut? Oh, I did? Good. Then you have been triple warned, and for those of you are easily offended or who are looking for the T rated version of SoM (you know, the one with an actual plot), **THIS IS NOT IT**.

The last chapter of SoM (the one with an actual plot) was a bit heavy, and I've always intended to follow each character through their love affairs and misadventures, so here's the first one with Lance. Also, I'm going on vacation (at last!) and might not get to post for a bit, so here's a bit of lighthearted fun in the meantime.

Thanks to the Queens of M, Xia and Mertz, without whom the Interludes would not exist at all. Thanks, ladies for challenging me to push my boundaries and for supporting me while I do.

Interlude 3:

Chapter Four and a Half:

Lance and Kiari

Kiari sat in front of the vanity in her suite of rooms in the castle's eastern tower, her eyes closed and her head thrown slightly back as Tressa brushed her long red hair before bed. She smiled blissfully, every now and then making soft murmurs of approval deep in her throat. If she was a cat, she would have been purring. Saran's third and youngest wife was quite near her own age, and the two of them had formed a fast friendship when the young widow joined their household two years before. Of everyone in her foster father's sprawling, chaotic household, Tressa had the steadiest hands and the most patience. She was also that rare mixture of person who was both a good listener and could keep a secret. Kiari was glad, for the hundredth time, that her extended family was here with her in the Castle of Lions, and also that they had kept to their custom of caring for their own needs as a family. They kept no servants. If they did, she would not be enjoying herself nearly so much....

"Tell true, Kia," her friend said teasingly as she pulled the brush through her almost waist-length hair. "You like him."

"I do like him. He's an admirable warrior..."

The brushing stopped. Kiari squirmed a bit and almost whined. Her hair was her one great vanity, and no one brushed it like her friend. "You force me to treat you like the fourteen-year old girl you are acting like, Kia. Of course you 'like' him. You would not have brought him to breakfast, else. But what I want to know is," Tressa resumed her slow, steady movements. "_How much_ do you like him?"

Kiari tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "Well enough, I suppose."

"Do you _like_ like him?"

Kiari couldn't help it; she broke into giggles, which was something she never did. "Tressa, you are _awful_. You make me feel like I'm a child. Did Saran put you up to this?"

Kiari stared into the mirror as her friend put the brush down and rested her chin on the top of her shining red hair. "You know that he did not, Kia. I just want to know. I have never known you to act as you do." Kiari scowled at their reflection. "No, it's a good thing. It is good to find someone with whom you can share things, small things, like how you had a good night's sleep or that there was a particularly pretty moonrise... things like that." Tressa wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulders in a loose hug. "I never thought I would find that again, after my first husband died, and it makes me happy to think that something like that might be in your future."

Kiari rested happily in her friend's arms. In the mirror, they looked more like sisters or cousins than foster-mother and daughter. "The heart is a many chambered mystery, my friend, that is true. I would never have thought my foster-father's household would grow into the zoo that it has, but I am so glad that it did." She whirled from the vanity and held her friend's hands, swinging their joined arms anxiously. "But even if I did _like_ like the Red Lion pilot, I have no stronger ambitions than to be his good friend. He seems very much as if he needs one, lately." Her face darkened briefly. "And he is hurting, still. I don't think he wants, or needs, anything more than a friend right now..."

"You make him laugh, Kia, and you are like a puzzle to him, that he can't quite figure out..."

"That, I can believe. He does find me strange. Look," she turned her palms up

in her friend's hands, frowning. "I am so rough and fierce...I know nothing of

delicacy, or how to pretend I find someone interesting who is not, and, Tressa, just _look _at

these hands.They are as rough and scarred as an old lizard's." Sometimes she thought she had a stranger's hands attached to her body; they were roughened from holding a sword, scarred from being cut by swords, and burned from handling fire. They would never be tiny and soft...

Bell-like laughter followed her last statement. "If you remain a puzzle, it means

that you are _interesting_. You really haven't been paying attention to yourself these last

several years, have you? Come here," her friend said firmly, leading her over to the full

length mirror jut outside her closet. "You are stunning, Kia, and you might as well get

used to it. The only thing that has kept you from being swarmed with suitors has been

my husband's fierce protection and your own blindness. Why do you think Saran scowls

so much? Just _look_," and Kiari did.

Her red hair hung in waves down over her shoulders, just covering her unbound breasts. It was undone from its usual gold-threaded crown of braids and hung a bit wildly about her face, loose strands licking her high cheekbones like flames. Her nightgown was a thin dark green silk that clung to her body despite its loose cut. It matched her eyes almost exactly. Her skin was a dark golden color where it was exposed to the desert sun, but the loose gown was just low cut enough to show the pale cream color of the rest of her skin. She stared at herself in the mirror. She had always thought of herself as angular and hard, comparing herself, perhaps, to the men she often had to fight beside. But the thin silk hugged firmly rounded breasts, skimming over a taut, flat stomach before clinging to her hips and supple, muscled thighs.

"But our customs are so different," she said, staring at the woman in the mirror.

Tressa hauled her away from her own reflection and towards her bed in her suite of rooms in the Castle of Lions. "Yes, they are very different, Kia. Be careful." Her third foster mother perched on the bed while Kiari settled herself. "Relationships are different among our kind and his. What you consider being friends might mean something very different to him. Things could get out of hand, in such a situation, and something with innocent intentions on both your parts could have very serious consequences. And don't forget you are Clan Leader now." Tressa kissed her on the forehead even as she dimmed the light by her bed. "There is a reason your foster father is such a fierce guardian. But I will stop with the lecturing, dearest. Sleep well."

Kiari, hugging her pillow to her chest, felt thoroughly confused. How could it be good to be his friend when it might also have serious consequences? _Swarmed_ with suitors? Saran scowled because of _that_? She smiled, because she knew that couldn't be true. Saran had been born scowling, she was sure of it. She fell into a light, restless sleep, and dreamed, as she often did, of the Lake of Fire. Home.

VVVVV

She woke with a start, feeling disoriented. Waves of pain and fear and panic and something else she couldn't identify washed over her from somewhere in the castle. She frowned. It wasn't coming from her own people; she closed her eyes, listening with that part of her that let her touch other people's minds and make flames dance on her skin....

With a gasp she sat up quickly, frozen with uncertainty for about a minute. She knew the shape of those thoughts, the source of the wordless pain and distress. Lance. But as to why he was hurting, and what kind, she didn't know.... perhaps it would pass...

As a fresh wave of agony hit her, she threw the covers off and hit the corridor at a run. He was her friend, and he was hurting enough to be broadcasting his pain, even panic, and there was no one else in the castle that could help him with it. The shields, _her_ shields, between the three of them must have fallen, and the other two must be in some kind of terrible pain. Them, she could not help, as far away as they were; but Lance, perhaps. Halfway down the corridor she realized she had forgotten a robe or her slippers or even a weapon. As she hesitated, she had a sudden mental picture of him writhing on the floor, and she began to run even faster in the direction of his quarters.

VVVVV

It was worse than she thought. He lay on his side, writhing and breathing heavily, doubled over in the threshold of his bathroom door. She was at his side in seconds, talking to him, trying to reassure him as she prepared herself to block his mind against whatever terrible fate his two friends were enduring. His blue eyes were wild as he looked up at her and begged her to make it stop. She tried to anchor him to reality with words as she reached deep within herself, telling him that she was there, she knew of his pain, she would shield him, she had been unforgivably derelict, and placed her hands on his head to begin...

And was rocked by a wave of desire so intense it almost knocked her over as well. Her stomach felt twisted up, as if she was ill, but with pleasure instead of unpleasantness. It was like nothing she had ever known. When he felt her touch, heard her gasp, he looked at her with glazed eyes, and she understood.

His two friends were most definitely _not_ in pain. And he was feeling it. And although he felt their pleasure, magnified back at him two fold, she could see from the look of panic in his eyes that he wanted no part of this.

A fresh wave of desire and need and intense feelings she had no name for rocked them both as she tried, vainly, to shield him. She knew she had to block him from them, from Keith and Allura, who were obviously intimately involved right now, and fast, or she would not long be able to control herself. She already wasn't sure she wanted to control herself...Her face flamed as she looked at him, as she felt her own body responding to feelings that were not her own, and she knew her eyes were as glazed as his, her breathing as fast, and she felt his hands on her as she reached for him blindly, trying to get a block against _their_ thoughts up...

And connected with his shirt instead. She found herself pulling at it, desperate to get it off him, and her own clothing, loose and light as it was, suddenly felt as if it weighed more than his Lion, and he looked at her as no one ever had before. His eyes, fever bright, held wanting and aching and possessiveness and passion... She was aware of the floor, of how cold the tiles felt compared to the heat of his body, and she pulled at his clothing even harder, now, wanting to feel him against her, wanting his skin to touch hers, to warm her with its heat, to match the heat she felt in her breasts, her belly, between her thighs...

She felt herself being lifted and carried to his bed, and she whimpered against the few seconds it took him to lay her down on it, those few seconds that kept her apart from him, until he was sliding on top of her, feeling him swollen and hard against her inner thigh, looking down at her with bright blue eyes, asking her something about her guardian, and she gave him some answer, she wasn't sure what, while she watched him pull at his own shirt. She watched, fascinated, as he managed to get it about half off. His stomach was even more toned and muscled than her own, and she sat up, running her hands across it, fascinated. He was kneeling between her own spread knees, she could see the evidence of his arousal hidden only by the thinnest of fabrics, the shape and the size of him obvious against the shorts that he slept in. As she ran her hand across his stomach, inching lower with her caresses, she watched this part of him, fascinated. Another wave of pleasure rocked them both, and she gasped again, and suddenly they were a blur of moving hands and mouths. She had his shirt off in seconds, and his hands were on her gown. She felt his arms around her, strong and muscled, and they tensed as she heard the fabric of her gown separate from her body with one great rip.

She lay with her legs spread around his knees, completely naked with a man for the first time in her life, and she felt nothing but an intense, aching need. He looked down at her, drinking her in.

"My god, you are beautiful," he whispered reverently, looking up and down the entire length of her bare body. His eyes held hesitation even as the waves of pleasure and desire battered against them both, and she thought with growing excitement that he hadn't even touched her yet, that even greater sensations awaited them. She reached up and grabbed the waistband of the last remaining barrier of clothing between them and yanked them down, freeing his hugely swollen erection. He closed his eyes as he bit his lip, struggling for control. She stared at him, the whole engorged length of him, fascinated. Her hands dipped lower across his abdomen until she touched him there, feeling the length of him, and it was his turn to gasp and tremble.

She was so afraid he was going to stop, was going to ask her if she was sure, or worst of all, if she'd done this before, so she pulled him down on top of her and kissed him fiercely, cutting off any questions he might have had before he could ask them and ruin the moment. He kissed her back, fierce and hard, the two of them locked in a tight embrace.

Lance was almost beyond thought, driven by the most powerful desire he had ever known to take the woman beneath him with one deep thrust. He wanted to spread her open and drive himself into her until she cried out against him, burying himself as deeply as he could inside her, and then, and only then, would he pull himself back out, inch by inch, until he was completely withdrawn from her, and then drive his throbbing erection into her once again, thrusting deeply several more times before beginning a hard, steady rhythm, until he felt her shatter against him, and then he would slow down and do it again...

But he wanted to take his time, too, with this woman who was his friend but who could be more, was already so much more. He reached for every inch of self-control and discipline he had and fought against the powerful waves of pleasure and need that battered them both. Her bright green eyes widened in surprise as he pulled slightly away from her. "Ssshh," he told her, looking down at her fabulous, heaving breasts. "I have wanted to do this from the first time I saw you," he said, running his palm lightly over the pale skin of her breast. Underneath his touch, her nipple hardened, and he moved his fingers to play with it, touch it, and rub it between his forefinger and thumb. She pressed her lips together tightly to keep from crying out. "Are you sure you're ready?" She nodded violently, her lips still pressed closely together as his hand left her breast and traveled lower, his fingers stroking her inner thigh. "Thank god, Kiari, because I have never wanted anyone or anything as badly as I want you right now."

She didn't trust herself to speak, only to nod her agreement, and then she was lost in pleasure so intense it brought tears to her eyes. He was touching her, in the most intimate way....

Lance watched her face as his fingers found the soft pink folds between her trembling inner thighs, petting and stroking. She stared up at him, her green eyes huge and glazed with pleasure, and spread her knees even further apart for him, moving against his hand, her hips already thrusting a little. At the same time, her questing hands found his throbbing cock, her fingers wrapping themselves around the length of him, mimicking his movements as he stroked her. He groaned. He spread her a little wider, and he was pushing his fingers into her tight wet opening, slipping them in and out of her quickly as she arched her back and thrust her hips at him harder. Her hands on his cock became more insistent, and he groaned, low in his throat, barely in control of himself, before pulling away from her. "Not yet," he whispered hoarsely.

Any protest she might have made was cut off when his fingers found the throbbing nub buried within her slick folds. She cried out as he rubbed against her there, her entire body shaking against him as she begged him to take her. She had not known she could feel this way, that was so much pleasure in the world. "Please," she whispered, her green eyes pleading. "I'm burning. Please, Lance," she cried out as his fingers moved faster across her clitoris.

He rolled to one side so that he had a better view of her fabulous naked body. "I've wanted so much to see you, touch you," he told her, his eyes traveling down her pale skin, concealed from the sun, lingering on her heaving breasts with their hard rosy nipples, her firm, muscled stomach, her long lean thighs spread open for his hand. The sight of him touching her, moving his fingers in and out and around, penetrating her, playing with her throbbing tight opening, was enough to drive them both into a heightened frenzy.

She grabbed him by the hips and rolled him back over so that he rested between her thighs. He groaned as he felt her hands stroking his cock again, then gasped as she rubbed the length of him against her wet folds. Suddenly he was the one who was moving his hips, arching his back, begging her to take him into her, except that his voice wouldn't work, but she seemed to understand him anyway, spreading her legs even wider. He reached down between them and spread her open, holding himself still as he whispered, "Are you sure?" but instead of answering she groaned in frustration and pulled him into her, her hands gripping his hips as he slid into her tight wet opening.

He met her mouth with his own as he slid himself inside her. Kiari knew she had taken countless knocks and blows and falls, and had been riding for as long as she could remember, so there would be no painful final barrier to their joining, but she did hiss a little as he filled her, the size of him stinging as he first thrust in. He froze, buried deeply, and, as the stinging faded into a pleasant burn, and then a raging fire, she writhed underneath him, pulling him forward to drive his cock deeper into her.

He didn't need any extra urging. Kissing her fiercely, pulling on her lips with his own, he drove himself into her deeply, thrusting again and again as she moaned against his lips. Her hands clawed into his back and hips as she worked out her frenzy against his cock. He could feel the hardened nub of her clitoris rubbing against his shaft as he moved in and out. Her arms became a vise around him, pulling him down against her, the entire length of her, as he felt her clench and throb around his cock, her cries of pleasure captured by his lips, and he bit his tongue, tasting blood, to keep from going over the edge himself.

"Not yet," he whispered as her rigid body relaxed against him. "More," he promised, and made space enough between them for his hand. He slowed his thrusts as his fingers found her clitoris once again, rubbing against her as he moved slowly in and out of her, feeling her slick wet opening stretched tight around his cock, and then she moaned again and pulled him down to her, kissing him and biting his neck and pumping her hips hard against him until he felt her shudder under him once again, and this time he was with her, burying his face in her cinnamon scented hair, his lips on her ear, one hand holding her breast, rubbing on her erect nipple as he drove himself as deeply as he could, again and again, until he, too, went rigid against her, releasing himself inside her with a pleasure so intense he forgot who he was for a moment.

They stayed frozen against each other for a long while, his face buried in her cinnamon scented red hair, reveling in the feeling of her lying warm and soft beneath him, the feeling of her firm breasts against his chest, her arms still tight around him. He could feel her heart hammering wildly just as his was, and their breathing was still heavy and ragged as they lay locked together. As their ragged breathing became more even, he dared to look at her; this had _soo_ not the way he had planned it. He was angry, at the two of them, Keith and Allura, not for finding each other, as he knew they must, but for their carelessness, for everyone's carelessness, because he cared for the brave beautiful woman beneath him who had helped him in so many ways. She had been there with him ever since the two of them departed, bringing him coffee, teasing him and making him laugh, puzzling him and making him think, always helping. That was no doubt why she'd come here tonight, to help him, and yet she had been drawn into their tangled triangle, dragged into an act that she might not have been ready for or wanted, and he was so afraid he would see regret in her eyes, or sadness, when this was something he wanted, and did not regret...

Her eyes, instead, were bright with excitement, still, and as he pulled his head up to look at her, she smiled and tangled her fingers in his wild, messed up hair, her other hand coming up around his neck. "Lance," she whispered, and there was no regret, no sadness, and the way she said his name was different than the way she used to say it. There was world of meaning in it, even though he didn't know what it meant, exactly, but he resolved to find out, and she pulled him down to her for another long, lingering kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that with you for a long time, too," she said, burying her head into his shoulder.

"Kia," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her forehead before he kissed her gently there. "My god, you have no idea." He studied her from above. "Although, I have to tell you, that's not quite how I envisioned it happening."

She laughed, long and loud. "Nor I," she admitted. "I thought your two friends must be in terrible pain, when I felt your panic and your fear. I thought we were going to have to raise an alarm, or something," she giggled. "But my first priority, my first thought, was of getting to you," she whispered, smoothing back his hair, tracing his lips with her fingers.

He caught her fingers with his lips and nipped the tips of them gently. "They certainly weren't in trouble when you came, but I swear they will be when they get back," he vowed. "But I can't say I'm sorry, Kia."

"Me neither," she said, pulling him to him for another kiss, and it was a long time before they broke it.


End file.
